Tear the Veils from Every Mystery
by kissingthebee
Summary: Written for a prompt over at the r qmeme:   AU, femslash, the usual disclaimer.  Reviews are nice.
1. Chapter 1

The soundtrack of the city floated into her apartment.

Cars honking, people screaming or laughing, trashcans clanking, the subway rumbling, hissing grates and a few over-excited conversations.

The dissonant harmony of the city.

She liked it that way.

The phone rang, discordant, and harsh.

Closing her window, she answered, "Hello?"

It was like watching t.v. on mute, now that the window was closed.

The people on the sidewalks shuffled past each other, arms brushing, in an intimacy that was lost on her.

She saw families, with exhausted parents and smiling children walking down the streets.

Watching this, Rachel learned that her father was in the hospital.

_Have a nice day_. And then there was the click of a dial tone.

As if she could.

Leaning her head on the cold pane of her window, she could see that the people still ran around like the world wasn't askew, like the words _critical condition _and _severe internal bleeding _didn't mean anything to them.

Sighing, the brunette picked herself up off the sill. There were things to do.

There were calls to make, and tickets to book.

There were pets to place in the care of others, and plants to be watered by others.

There were clothes to stuff into suitcases to stuff into cars.

There was a ride to the airport, and a flight to catch.

And then Rachel Berry was home.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey, kiddo." Hiram smiled weakly, before gripping his daughter into a tight hug. "It's been too long."

She just nodded against his chest, unable to speak.

For once.

They kept hugging in the middle of the busy terminal. Occasionally, being jostled by rude business men who looked as if Hiram and Rachel should have been apologizing to them, and not the other way around.

Letting go, he grabbed hold of Rachel's suitcases, bedazzled of course, and walked out the airport gate.

The car sped by picturesque suburban towns with their manicured lawns and generic houses, as the two Berry's made generic small talk about the weather, work, school, and the goings-on of Lima. Then;

"Do you have the mean reds too?" She ventured.

Her father quirked an eyebrow.

"From _Breakfast at Tiffany's_. The mean reds are when you're terrified beyond comprehension, and you don't even know why. Only I know what it is that I'm terrified of."

"You would use Ms. Holly Golightly to better express your feelings." Hiram shook his head, "But, yes, I do."

"Oh. That wasn't the consoling reassurance that I was hoping you would give me. You should work on your parenting skills."

"Maybe you should be around more so that I can practice. As for the consoling, I wish that I could, but, sweetie, I need some reassurance too."

She pursed her lips and looked out the window; she could not, would not, let thoughts of the worst case scenario creep into her mind.

The sun was beginning to set as they pulled into the Lima Medical Center, its hulking façade cast eerie shadows over the parked cars. And Rachel was reminded of how much she hated hospitals.

She wasn't sure why she hated them so much.

Maybe it had to do with her first visit when she was 7 and had broken her wrist.

Maybe it was the general air of sickness and death, and how it reminded her of her own mortality.

Or maybe she'd just seen that one episode of _Buffy_ too much.

Either way she hated them.

The automated glass doors opened and they were assaulted with the smell of bleach trying to cover up sickness.

Rachel blinked at the harsh antiseptic white light in the waiting room, disoriented, then realized that her father had kept walking.

She followed him down the long hallway until they reached a room marked ICU.

The room had the same sterile smell as the lobby, only with more plastic. There was an empty bed, perfectly made, its corners folded so precisely that Rachel wondered if she had found someone who paid more attention to details that she did.

Her dad lay in the second bed, bandaged and swollen, some wires poking out of him, but it was still Leroy, it was still her dad.

"Dad?" She asked, leaning over the bed, "Da-ad?"

"Shh! Sweetie, he needs his rest."

"Oh. Sorry. I was just making sure he was okay."

"You know that that's what those monitors are for, right?"

"Oh hush."

There was a pause.

The silence stretched out between them, reminding them, even though they hadn't forgotten, that Leroy should have been talking with them, that they shouldn't have been there at all.

Rachel thought about praying to a God she didn't quite believe in. But maybe her disbelief would work against her.

She wondered if things worked that way. If whatever gods or goddesses or forces that created the world, the Universe stayed and paid attention, even offered help, to their denizens. Before, she used to think so, now, she wasn't so sure.

"Hey,"

Rachel was jerked out of her musings by the voice. She knew that voice. She turned around.

"What's up short stack?" Santana smirked from the door.


	3. Chapter 3

Rachel stood up, surprised, she hadn't thought Santana would show up here.

Not wanting to disturb her dad, she walked outside and closed the door.

"What are you doing here? Lezpez." She added the nickname as an afterthought.

"You're never gonna get tired of that, are you?"

"I've been calling you that since you were just a child."

"I was a freshman!"

"Like I said, just a child."

"You suck."

"Clever, come up with that all by yourself?"

Santana just rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I heard about your dad and I wanted to make sure that you weren't flying into a panic of diva sized proportions. So… What's going on?"

"My dad is… It's not good right now. The doctor says he is expected to recover, he just might not have all of his facilities when he does."

"Oh, so, are you like… Flying into a panic?"

"I'm scared, confused, and I think I'm experiencing some type of neurological disorder."

"I know this might be upsetting news but, that disorder's been going on for a while. Ow!" Rachel had pushed her, hard. "But, seriously. I get it."

"I don't think you do, but I suppose that it's the thought that counts."

"Yeah, yeah. So, are you staying here the night?"  
"Actually, I hadn't thought about that."

The Latina's eyes widened in mock horror, "Rachel Berry doesn't have her entire day planned out? How is the Earth still spinning on its axis?"

"I hope you enjoy making fun of me in my fragile state, because if - when things get better, you won't be getting away with it."

The Cheerio had noticed her falter. Before she could say anything, the door to the ICU opened.

"Hey, Rach?" Hiram asked.

"Yes Daddy?"

"Visiting hours are ending, and I'll be staying the night. Will you be alright being home alone?"

Rachel nodded while Santana said, "Maybe I could stay with her?"

"I'm perfectly capable of staying home alone! I'm almost 22 for goodness' sake!" Rachel huffed indignantly.

"Santana, you'll drive her home and stay the night?"

"Course I will."

Rachel pouted; though she was grateful she wouldn't be alone all night. She wasn't sure how she'd do being at home where everything would remind her of her dad.

"Do you want to say goodbye to Dad?"

"No, I don't."

"You don't?" Santana raised an eyebrow.

"No. When you say goodbye to someone, it means that it's okay for them to leave."

A/N Sorry it took me so long to get this up, I had some computer troubles but I got it up on my LJ like 2 weeks ago..

Yeah, it doesn't make sense, does it?

Anyway, I'll try and have the next part done.. This week 'cause I owe you an update.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry for taking so long, I just thought I'd say no new chapters until I'm done. Which'll be a while since I have work and summer school keeping me busy. Enjoy the shortest chapter in the history of ever.

The drive to the Berry's was quiet, Santana had announced that Rachel wasn't allowed to play any of her music and Rachel kept telling Santana to skip the songs that played. Frustrated, Santana swatted at Rachel and almost drove them off the rode.

After that, neither of them wanted to listen to anything.

They rolled into the driveway and Santana tossed a couple of bags at Rachel before grabbing the rest and grumbled while she stood waiting for the shorter girl to open the door.

Dropping the bags unceremoniously on the floor, Santana rushed upstairs yelling something about needing a shower since she rushed to the hospital after practice.

Rachel stood in the foyer of her house.

It was the same as when she last saw it 5 months ago.

There were her fathers' coats hanging on the hooks by the wall.

Assorted shoes were half neatly, half haphazardly thrown into the little shelf by the stairs.

A picture of the three of them was hanging above the fireplace in the adjacent room.

It was all the same.

But it wasn't.

Earlier that day, the world had a hole torn in it.

Now, Rachel had to go on pretending like it was all okay.


End file.
